“Rather unpleasant!” said Noll.
“On the contr’y,” said the barber—“quite pleasant.... It’s in the morning my head will be bursting.”
“Very awkward indeed!” said Noll drily, humouring him.
“Of awkward I know nothing,” said the barber—“but it will be more than unpleasant when the cock-y-doo’s begin their—hiccup—morning song. Damn this hiccup!”
“Come, Devlin—wake up!”
Devlin laughed sadly:
“I wish them lamps would stop sliding down the street. Would you mind,” said he—“I’m afraid it’s a great trouble I’m putting ye to—would you mind givin’ me your arm?”
“Why?”
Devlin blinked:
“The man who is intoxicated with love should avoid mixing his intoxication with spirits.... I want to take my head carefully in both hands and put it in yon horse-trough.”